Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from Astounding Stories October 1931. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. 

 [Illustration: The two fighting men circled warily. ]

 In the Orbit of Saturn

 By R. F. Starzl

 * * * * *

[Sidenote: _Disguised as a voluntary prisoner on a pirate space ship, an I. F. P. Man penetrates the mystery of the dreaded "SolarScourge. "_]

The _Celestia_, gliding through space toward Titan, major satellite ofSaturn, faltered in her course. Her passengers, mostly miningengineers and their wives, stockholders, and a sprinkling of visitors, were aware of a cessation of the heavens' apparent gyrations, due tothe halting of the ship's rotation on its axis. At the same time theship's fictitious gravity, engendered by the centrifugal force of itsrotation, ceased, so that passengers, most of whom were assembled inthe main salon, which occupied the entire midship section, driftedaway from the curved floor, whose contour followed that of the outerskin, to flounder in helpless confusion. 

A woman screamed. A rasping sound, as of metal scraping against thehull, came from one point in the circumference, and here the portholeswere obscured by a dark mass that blotted out the stars. 

An old man, clinging to a luxuriously upholstered chair, and pale withfright, cried:

"It's those damned pirates. If they find out who I am it'll break thecompany to ransom me. "

"If the company thinks it worth while to ransom you, " retorted hisyoungish, saturnine companion, who seemed less scared than annoyed. 

Questions darted back and forth. No word came from the control roomforward, and little of what transpired outside could be seen throughthe thick glass ports. The pirate ship loomed over them like amonstrous leech, its bolts sharply etched in black and white by thesunlight from their stern. Beyond that was only the velvetydarkness--the absolute vacuity of space that carries no sound, refracts no light. A battle was raging out there, but of that nothingcould be seen or heard in the salon. Only a dull, booming vibrationthrough the flyer's hull, made by the rockets in a useless effort toshake off their captor. 

 * * * * *

Of all the passengers, none understood the situation as well as QuirlFinner. In imagination he followed the desperate struggle that wasgoing on out there, for the men who were selling their lives were hiscompanions in arms, the ship's guard of the redoubtable I. F. P. , theInterplanetary Flying Police who carried the law of white men to theoutermost orbit of the solar system. 

Quirl bristled, but he maintained his pose of indifference--of thesightseeing passenger who depended blindly on the ship's crew for hisown safety. In appearance he might easily have been the pampered sonof some millionaire that he impersonated. His close-fitting silkentunic of blue, with its bright yellow roll-collar, the turban of fineyellow lace, the close-fitting trousers that showed his lithe yetpowerfully molded legs, the thin-soled low boots--all proclaimed himthe typical time-killing dandy of the times. His superb proportionsmade him look smaller, lighter than he really was, and his leanfeatures, which under the I. F. P. Skullcap would have looked hawk-like, were sufficiently like the patrician fineness of the character part hewas playing. Young men of means in the year 2159 were by no meanswithout their good points. They indulged in athletic sports tocounteract the softening influence of idleness, and so Quirl Finnerhad no misgivings about the success of his disguise. 

Yet he could not refrain from listening intently for every sound thatpenetrated the hull. His part was to be captured by the pirate, whohad been named "The Solar Scourge" by sensational newscasters, and tolearn all he could, and eventually to be ransomed by a "wealthyfather" with his priceless information. So he waited, chafing, whilemen he knew, men who had faced the perils of space with him, met theirdeath. 

After a time there came the sudden crackling of the air-tight bulkheadwhich separated the salon from the forward sections. Quirl knew whatthis meant. The pirates had succeeded in breaching a hole through theship's skin, and the air of the forward section had rushed into space. It was sickening to think of those brave men up there caught in thesuddenly formed vacuum. Long before the bulkhead had ceased cracklinghe knew they were dead, and that the pirate crew had entered, wearingvacuum suits, and was even then replenishing the air so the passengerscould be taken alive. 

 * * * * *

They had been in the prison hold of the pirate ship for five days, terrestrial time. This was nothing like the spacious quarters they hadoccupied before. A cross-section of their prison would have lookedlike a wedge with a quarter circle for its blunt end. The curved wallof the great cylindrical projectile, nearly a hundred feet indiameter, was their floor, on which they could walk like flies on theinside of a wheel rim. The walls of the room, on two sides, convergedtoward the top, until they joined the sides of a well-like tunnel thatran from the nose of the ship to its tail, where the rocket nozzleswere. A door pierced the tunnel side, and under this door was a metalplatform, from which one could either climb into the passage or down aladder into the hold. A pirate guard held this platform, from where hecould peer over the top of a curtain which gave scant privacy to themen and women prisoners on either side of it. 

On the floor-plates, without even the meager comfort of the driedMartian weeds that had been given to the women, sat or lay the men. They showed their dejection, their faces covered with new growths ofbeard, their clothes crumpled and torn. The only furniture consistedof a long, light metal table on the women's side, securely bolted tothe floor. The prisoners were obliged to stand at this when eatingtheir meals. The whole cheerless scene was coldly illuminated by asingle light-emanating disk just under the guard's platform. 

Steps echoed hollowly metallic from above. Quirl wondered if it wasalready time for the galley boy to bring the immense bowl of hot stewfor the noon meal. 

 * * * * *

It was not. It was Moby Gore, the huge and overbearing first mate ofthe pirates on his daily mission of inspection and prisoner baiting. Quirl crept further into his corner. It would be fatal to his plan forhim to attract the attention of this petty tyrant. It was hard enoughto keep away from him--to crush back the almost overwhelming desire tofly at him, fists hammering. 

Gore came down the ladder deliberately, pausing on the lower steps tolook around with his little, pig's eyes. His head was set well forwardon his thick, muscular neck, so that he had to look out from under hisbeetling brows in a manner peculiarly ape-like. His heavy face wassmooth-shaven, and his blue-black jowls and chin looked painfullysmooth. His coarse, black hair was brushed back and plastered firmlyto his bullet head. 

His body was heavy, but moved with deadly smoothness and precision. The customary harness which passed around his naked torso supported adouble-barreled ironizing electrocution pistol, and also a short, savagely knobbed riot club. Depending from the belt at his waist wereshort pants, which displayed the thick, hairy legs with theircable-like muscles. On his feet were thick socks, so that his toeswere able to curl around the rungs of the ladder. 

Satisfied with his quick, darting inspection, Gore now came all theway down. At the foot of the ladder lay an elderly man in the oblivionof sleep. Gore's foot came down on the thin chest. With savagepleasure he bore down, so that the old man's startled squawk ended ina fit of coughing. Gore cuffed him aside roughly, growling:

"Old squiffer! Let that learn you to sleep out of the way!" He laughedcoarsely when one of the prisoners, with the temerity of anonymity, started to boo, but received no support. 

 * * * * *

Carelessly Gore passed among the prisoners. Here and there he halted, snatching some article of finery or inconspicuous bit of jewelry thathe had overlooked before. They shrank from him, only too glad to seehim pass on to the next unfortunate. 

"You, there!" Gore rasped, indicating Quirl with his stubbyforefinger. "Come on out o' there, you!"

Quirl hoped that the brutal mate would not hear the thudding of hisbeating heart, or that if he did, he would take it for fear. He cameslowly toward Gore, who was greedily eyeing the young man's brightlycolored and valuable tunic. Quirl came too slowly. 

"What do you take me for?" Gore bellowed in unreasonable anger. Hestrode forward, the prisoners scattering before him. His large, knottyhand closed on Quirl's arm, and jerked, with the intention of whirlingthis reluctant prisoner across the room. But Quirl was heavier, andhis arm harder, than Gore had supposed. The hand came away, and with atearing scream, the beautiful silk garment ripped off, ruined, disclosing Quirl's white and well-knit body. 

"You done that a-purpose!" Gore roared, and then his great ape's armswere around Quirl, trying to break his back. 

But that seemingly slight body would not bend, and, as much as Goremight tug and heave, he could not force Quirl back. The littlepig-eyes glared, and there was death in them. Suddenly Gore let go. His hand leaped to the short club at his side, and he swung the weaponin a vicious arc. Quirl's relaxed forearm met it, sapping most of itsforce. Yet when it struck his head it seemed to burst like a ball offire. He crashed against the wall and sank to the floor only halfconscious. 

"Gore! Gore!" yelled the guard from the platform, "'member how sorethe Old Man was about the last terrie you killed? Better lay off. "

"Shut yo'r damned mug!" Gore yelled back. But he gave up his idea ofkicking the prisoner, and with a menacing glare for the guard, passedon. 

 * * * * *

As Quirl's mind slowly cleared he congratulated himself for hisrepression. During his struggle with Gore his hand had come in contactwith the butt of the mate's electrogun. He could easily have pulled itout of its holster and turned it against its owner. But this hastyaction would not only have assured his own death, but would havedestroyed the only chance the I. F. P. Had of learning "The Scourge's"secrets. 

Gore slowly worked his way to the women's side of the hold. Here, muchto the amusement of the guard and himself, he began stripping offtheir long, flowing robes, disclosing their nude bodies. He seemed tosee particular humor to heaping indignity on the older women, commenting coarsely on their shortcomings. The men viewed this withset, pale faces. But none dared to interfere. In their midst was anobject lesson, his head swathed in bandages. He had been the first toresent this exhibition, an almost daily event, when the mate's rovingeye had happened to alight upon his wife. 

All at once Gore's careless and derogatory progress was halted, and hestared with terrifying intentness at the girl who had until that daymanaged to escape his notice. Gore had torn off a nondescript blackcape that had covered her head and face, and the golden silk robe shewore. To Quirl, watching from a space of some sixty feet, her beautycame like a shock. He remembered her as Lenore Hyde, whom he had seenonly once before as she emerged briefly from her stateroom. 

About five feet, six inches tall, her slim figure was dwarfed by thehuge bulk of the mate. Her golden hair tumbled over her slimshoulders, almost to her waist, where a tasseled cord held theclinging silk close to her. Her face, so white that it seemed likesilver in that gorgeous setting, was cold and defiant. There was nofear in those deep blue eyes under the straight brows--only loathingand contempt. 

Gore was not concerned with the personal feelings of his prize. Helicked his wide, cruel lips, seizing the girl's arms as in a vise. Hisother big, dirty hand slipped into the collar of her robe. 

 * * * * *

But the ripping of fabric did not come. Instead there was a sharpcrack, and Gore, too surprised even to move, stared at the little manwho had hit him. 

Again _crack_! The impact of fist on jaw. The blow was too weak tohurt this toughened veteran of countless battles. But slowly a tide ofdull red welled up over the bull neck, turning the blue-black jowls topurple, and the walls echoed to Gore's roar of anger. 

Again the fists of the smaller man smacked, this time drawing atrickle of blood from Gore's mouth. Then the thick fingers closed onthe brave passenger's wrist, and the tremendous muscles swelled as, with a quick movement, Gore thrust his adversary back of him, graspingthe other wrist also. Then with slow, irresistible motion, he begandrawing the thin arms forward, stretching them, until the unfortunateman, drawn against the barrier of Gore's back, began to shriek withpain. 

Still Gore pulled, grinning evilly, and his victim's shoulder bladeslifted under the tight skin of his back as they took the strain. Shriek followed shriek, until the guard on the platform glancedfurtively out into the central well. There came a dry, tearing crackleas the bones of the arms were drawn out of their sockets, and then theshrieks ceased as merciful unconsciousness came. Gore tossed the limpbody carelessly away. 

"The beast!" Quirl gritted his teeth. But he stayed where he was, hiding his clenched fist, for his was a specific assignment, and menof the I. F. P. Know the meaning of the word "duty. "

In a better humor again, Gore looked around. 

"Come on, you little ginny!" he chortled. "I see you! Come to Moby, mybeauty. You'll be queen of the hold, and this scurvy litter will kissyour feet every day. "

 * * * * *

He pursued her as she ran, bowling over or trampling on thefear-stricken prisoners as they tried to scramble out of his way, menand women alike. But she made up in agility what she lacked instrength, lifting up the hem of her robe so that her legs twinkledbare, ducking under Gore's outstretched arms, or leaping over thefallen form of some stumbling, panic-stricken unfortunate. 

Only in her eyes was there a true picture of her terror. Gore'suncertain temper was changing again, and in a few moments he wascursing foully, his little red-rimmed eyes glistening, as he dashedafter her with short, boar-like rushes. 

Again she skimmed past where Quirl cowered in simulated fear, and thelook she gave him struck straight at the disguised officer's heart. Soit was that when she slipped and fell to her knees, and Gore chargedin with a triumphant laugh, Quirl met him with no thought of anything, no feeling but the joy of battle, the delight of a strong man when hemeets a foe whom he hates. And to that heady, feral emotion was addedthe unforgettable picture of a lovely face whose obvious fear wassomehow tempered by hope and confidence--in him!

As Gore lunged past, Quirl struck him. It was a short, sharp, well-timed jab that would have knocked out an ordinary man. But Gorewas by no means ordinary. The blow laid open his cheek against thejawbone, but Gore scarcely slowed as he swerved. With a bellow ofrage, he came straight at Quirl, arms outstretched. 

Philosophers have said that no matter how far the human race advancesin the sciences, its fundamental reactions will still be atavistic. Gore could have dispatched Quirl in a second with his ray weapon, withperfect safety. Yet it is doubtful that the weapon even entered hismind. As he came to the battle he was driven only by the primitiveurge to fight with his hands, to maim, to tear limb from limb like thegreat simians whom he resembled. 

 * * * * *

To Quirl, coolly poised, the picture of Gore did not inspire terror. In the passengers, it did. They saw a brutal giant, gorilla-like, androaring like a beast, charging at a half-naked youth apparently onlyhalf his size. It seemed that those tremendous arms must break him atthe first touch. 

But the grasping hands slipped off the lithe body as if it were oiled, leaving only angry red welts along Quirl's ribs. As the officer edgedaway he planted two blows on Gore's nose, which began to bleed freely. 

Again Gore rushed, and _spat!_ _spat!_ two seemingly light blowslanded on his face, opening a cut above his eye and another on hischeek bone. In a few seconds of battling he had become a shockingsight, with his features almost obscured by welling blood. 

Again Quirl measured him, and this time, instead of evading the graspof the mate's eager arms, he stepped right between them. Like a wraithhe slipped into their embrace, and before they could grasp him, standing so close that his chest almost touched his adversary's, hewhipped a right to Gore's jaw. It was the kind of punch that makeschampions, a whiplike lash of the forearm, with relaxed muscles thattighten at the moment of impact. A punch with "follow-through" fit toknock out ninety-nine men out of a hundred. 

But it did not knock out Gore, and Quirl had to pay dearly for hiserror. Gore was staggered, but his mighty arms closed, hugging hisslighter opponent to his hairy chest so that the breath was choked outof him, and the metal studs on his harness gouged cruelly into Quirl'sflesh. His face was blue before he could work his arm loose, and beginto prod with stiffened fingers at Gore's throat. Gore had to let gothen, and Quirl broke away, boxed for a few moments until he hadrecovered, and then proceeded to chop Gore's face beyond any semblanceof humanity. 

The mate had dropped his ray weapon, and now searched for it withblinded eyes. He flung his riot club, and it flew wide of the mark. Itwas obvious that he was going to be beaten into insensibility. 

 * * * * *

The guard on the platform, seeing the trend of the battle, shoutedhoarsely up the well, and in a few minutes four men, hard-bitten, villainous looking fellows, tumbled down the ladder and joyouslyjoined in the fray. It was then only a matter of seconds before Quirllay on the floor-plates, battered and bleeding, but still feeblyfighting, while Gore sat astride him, seeking with vicious fingers forQuirl's eyes. At the same time his men were kicking at the helplessman's body wherever they could reach him. 

At the sight of this brutality the other prisoners, forgetting for themoment their own cowed condition, set up such a bedlam of noise thatthe guard began to look furtively up the passage, and to shout at theruffians. 

Suddenly he was whirled aside, and a figure in uniform, moving withuncanny speed for a man so massive, appeared upon the platform andbounded down the ladder. He was among the struggling men on the floorin a moment, and became a maze of flailing arms and legs. Liketen-pins the pirates scattered, and the giant pulled off the mate. Gore could not see, but as he writhed he knew he was in the grip ofthe pirate captain. Captain Strom's harsh, ascetic face was dangerous, and his steely gray eyes compelling. The men managed slovenly salutes. 

"Gore, " Strom snapped, "have your men get some water and mop up thisblood. How many times have I told you to quit mauling the prisoners?D'ye think I'm in this business to provide amusement for you?Henceforth keep out of this hold. Hear?"

"Yes, sir, " Gore muttered sullenly. 

"Took five of you bums to handle him, did it?" Strom remarkedsardonically, stooping to pick up the unconscious Quirl. He carriedhim easily, up the ladder. As they disappeared Strom's voice boomedout:

"Dr. Stoddard! Stoddard! Messenger, have Stoddard report at my cabin. "

 * * * * *

The mate was wiping the blood off his face with a rag. 

"I tried to call yer, " the guard whined. 

"That tears it!" Gore exclaimed fiercely, bursting into a string ofabuse. But one of his henchmen nudged him. 

"Keep yer tongue in yer face, Gore, till the time comes. "

Gore said nothing, but glared savagely at the prisoners. 

"Get the buckets and mops!" he snarled at his men, and they fledprecipitately. 

A long, wailing noise came through the hatch:

"Soopson! S-o-o-pson!"

"Here comes yer grub, damn you, " Gore growled at the prisoners ingeneral. A shuffling sound followed the singsong call, and then a"galley boy" of forty years or so, badly crippled by club-feet, shuffled up to the hatch and laboriously let himself down to theplatform. The huge bowl of stew he was carrying was far too heavy forhim, and his strained, thin face was beady with sweat. 

"Get a move on, Sorko!" Gore bellowed up at him. "Get your swill downhere. Some o' these swine are goin' short this time, anyway. "

Sorko set the big bowl down at the top of the steps and began todescend backward. Then he resumed his burden. 

But he was nervous, and had barely started when his crippled feet, fartoo big for his thin shanks, became entangled. He gave a giddy shriekand fell over backward, landing on his back, and lay still. His pale, freckled face became greenish. 

But the bowl, filled to the brim by its greasy, scalding hot contents, flew in a sweeping parabola, tipping as it fell, so that the entirecontents cascaded on Gore, drenching him from head to foot. Howlingwith rage and pain he danced around. He was utterly beside himself. When he was able to see he rushed for Sorko, who was moaning withreturning consciousness, and picked up the frail body to hurl itagainst the floor. 

"Stop, or you're dead!"

 * * * * *

That voice, so incisive and clear, was a woman's. Gore found himselflooking into the little twin funnels of his own ray projector. Theywere filled with a milky light, and the odor of ozone was strong. Thegirl had only to press the trigger and a powerful current would leapalong the path of those ionizing beams. And Gore would murder no more. 

Stupidly, he let Sorko slide to the floor, where the poor fellowrecovered sufficiently from his paralyzing fright and his fall toscuttle away. 

Looking past the menacing weapon, Gore saw the girl, Lenore Hyde. Herlimpid eyes under their straight brows were blazing, and he read inthem certain death for himself. 

"Up that ladder!" she ordered sharply, "and stay out! Guard, when thisbeast is gone I will give you this weapon. Now, connect up yourskipper. "

Too surprised to disobey, the guard threw the televisor switch, and ina moment Strom's stern face appeared on the screen. He comprehendedthe situation immediately. 

"Do as she says, " he ordered brusquely. "Stoddard is coming to takecare of that man of hers that Gore beat up. "

A few minutes later she was tearfully assisting the ship's doctor toput the man with the dislocated shoulders on a stretcher. 

"Your husband?" asked Stoddard, who resembled a starved gray rat. 

"My brother, " she exclaimed simply. 

"Want to take care of him?" And at her eager assent, he said, "Can'tafford to let him die. Your family got money?"

"Yes, yes! They will pay anything--anything--to get him back safely. "

The doctor grinned with satisfaction. 

 * * * * *

Memory returned to Quirl with the realization that he was lying on ametal bunk in an outside stateroom, where he could see the orderlyprocession of the stars through the floor ports as the ship rotated. His body was racked with pain, and his head seemed enormous. Hissensation, he discovered, was due to a thick swathing of bandages. 

As he stirred something moved in an adjoining bunk, and Dr. Stoddard'speaked face came into view. 

"How do you feel?" he asked professionally. 

"Rotten!"

"We'll fix that. " He left, returning a few minutes later with aportable apparatus somewhat resembling its progenitor, the diathermygenerator. He disposed a number of insulated loops about Quirl's bodyand head, connecting them through flexible cables to his machine. As agentle humming began, Quirl was conscious of an agreeable warmth, of aquickening all over his body. A great lassitude followed, and heslept. 

When he awoke again Captain Strom was standing beside him. He hadtaken off his coat, and his powerful body filled the blouse he waswearing. He had evidently just come off duty, for he still had on hisblue trousers, with the stripes of gold braid down the sides. 

"It may interest you, Mr. Finner, that I have selected you as one ofthe chosen, " he remarked casually. 

"One of the chosen what?"

"The chosen race. You didn't take me for an out-and-out damned pirate, did you?"

"Excuse me if I seem dumb!" Quirl hoisted himself on his elbow. "Yes, I figure you're a pirate. What else?"

 * * * * *

Strom's stern face relaxed in a smile. It was a strange smile, inscrutably melancholy. It revealed, beneath the hardness of awarrior, something else; the idealism of a poet. When he spoke againit was with a strange gentleness:

"To attain one's end, one must make use of many means, and sometimesto disguise one's purpose. For instance, it is perfectly proper for anofficer of the I. F. P. To disguise himself like a son of the idle richin order to lay the infamous 'Scourge' by the heels, isn't it?"

Quirl felt himself redden. And a cold fear seemed to overwhelm him. Herealized that Strom was a zealot, and he knew he would not hesitate tokill. This prompt penetration of his disguise was something he had notbargained for. 

"What makes you think, " he asked shortly, "that I'm an I. F. P. Man?"

"The fight you gave Gore and his men. Do you expect me to think that acoupon clipper could have done that? I know the way of--"

He checked himself. Quirl said:

"My people have money. I don't know what you mean about--"

"Oh, yes, you do, " Strom interrupted. "If you were what you claim tobe perhaps I would let you go for the ransom, though you took my eyefrom the first. "

"The ransom will be paid. "

"It will not. You will be one of those who do not return. There isonly one price I will accept from you. "

"Yes? What is that?"

"The formula of the new etheric ray. "

"I don't know the I. F. P. Secrets. I told you that. "

"You know how to operate the ray. All its men do. I want you to tellme what you know. I can deduce the rest. "

 * * * * *

Quirl thought rapidly. Strom was right. The I. F. P. Had developed a newray that was far superior to the ionizer ray, for the latter requiredan atmosphere of some kind for its operation, while the new one wouldwork equally well in a vacuum. 

"I never heard of any, " he lied stubbornly. "Anyway, what do you wanta ray for? Your guns, with no gravity to interfere and no air to stopthe bullets, have just about unlimited range, haven't they?"

"Spoken like a soldier!" Again Strom permitted himself a brieftriumphant smile. "And we have the further advantage of invisibility. The ship is surrounded by a net of wires that create a field of forcewhich bend light rays around us. That explains why your men have nevercaught us. But to get back to our subject. I will tell you something. Do you know who I am?"

Quirl looked at him. Strom appeared to be at least sixty years old. But the fine, erect figure, the rugged features told nothing. 

"Did you ever hear of Lieutenant Burroughs?" Strom asked casually. 

"Burroughs--the man without a planet!" Quirl ejaculated. "Are youBurroughs, the traitor?" Immediately he regretted his heedlessness. Strom's face darkened in anger, and for a moment the pirate captaindid not reply. When he did he was a little calmer. 

"Traitor they called me!" he exclaimed vehemently. "I a traitor--themost loyal man in the solar system guard. Surrounded by rottenness andintrigue--

"But you wouldn't know. You were but a lad learning to fly your firsttoy helics when that happened. Years later the Martian Cabal wasexposed, and the leading plotters--the traitors--were punished. Butthat was not till later, and the court's irreversible decree againstme had been carried out. I, the unsuspecting messenger, the loyal, eager dupe, was made the cat's-paw. I was put on an old, condemnedfreighter, with food and supplies supposed to last me a lifetime, butwith no power capsules and no means of steering the ship. I was setadrift in a derelict on a lonely orbit of exile around the sun--theman without a planet!

 * * * * *

"Picture that, lad. That rusty, dead old cylinder, coursing around andaround the sun, and inside, sitting on his bales and boxes, a youngman like you. A young man in the pride and prime of his life, expiating the treason that had betrayed him. Day after day, throughthe thick ports, I saw the same changeless scene. And every two years, when I drew near the Earth, I watched the beautiful green ball of it, with what bitter longings! As I watched it dwindle away again intothe blackness of space, I thought of the fortunate, selfish, stupidand cruel beings who lived on it, and hated them. They had banishedme, an innocent man, to whirl forever and ever around the sun, in mysteel tomb!

"But that cruel judgment was never executed. Seven years ago this Gorefound me. He is an escaped convict, and he came in a little five-manrocket he had stolen. We loaded up all of the supplies the little shipwould hold, for Gore had no food, and escaped to Titan, landing on anisland on the side opposite to where the mines are. 

"Gore wanted to become a pirate, and as he could get men, I consented. He scraped them up, fugitives from justice, every one of them. Webuilt this ship, and I invented the invisibility field of force--"

"Just a moment, " Quirl interrupted, vastly interested. "I saw yourship through the ports that day. "

"True. The presence of your ship in the field distorted it so muchthat it was ineffective. But at all other times--right now--we areutterly invisible. One of the I. F. P. Patrols may pass within a mile ofus and never see us. 

"As we raided the interplanetary commerce, I began to weed out thepeople we captured. Those that showed the highest intelligence, senseof justice and physical perfection I selected to be the nucleus of anew race, to be kept on Titan for a time and then to be transplantedto a new planet of one of the nearer solar systems. 

"My principal trouble is with the crew. They can collect ransom onlyon those I reject, and there are constant clashes between me and Gore. It is now my intention to let them go their way, and to fit out a newship, with a new crew. I offer you the place of first mate. "

"No!" Quirl replied crisply. "You say you understand the honor of theForce, and then offer me a job pirating with you. No, thanks!"

 * * * * *

Strom, or Burroughs, made no attempt to conceal his disappointment. The recital of his wrongs had brought out the bitter lines of hisface, and the weariness of one who plays his game alone and can callno one friend. 

"I should have known better, " he said quietly. "There was none moreloyal to the I. F. P. Than I--when I still belonged to it. Yet, Ithought if I laid all my cards before you--You realize what thismeans?"

"Yes, " Quirl replied soberly. "It means you will never dare to let mebe ransomed nor to free me among your selected people. Itmeans--death!"

"Not death! I will parole you. "

Quirl felt an overmastering surge of sympathy. He saw this pirate aslater historians have come to see him--a man of lofty and noblepurpose who was made the victim of shrewder, meaner minds in the mostdespicable interplanetary imbroglio ever to disgrace a solar system. The thought of his own fate, should he refuse the offer, did notdepress Quirl as much as the necessity of heaping more disappointmenton this deeply wronged "man without a planet. "

"Captain, " he said slowly, with deep regret. "You remember the I. F. P. Oath?" And at the other's flush he hurried on. "Knowing that oath youknow what my answer must be. Put me in irons or kill me!"

"I know, " Strom added wistfully. "Would you--if I could just once moreshake the clean hand of a brave man and a gentleman--"

Quirl's hand shot out and gripped the long, powerful fingers of thepirate captain. 

 * * * * *

Quirl was willing to compromise to the extent of not revealinganything to the other passengers, for the privilege of being kept inthe prison hold rather than in solitary confinement. Here he would beunder the vigilant eye of a guard, with possibly less chance ofeffecting an escape in some way, but he felt a great desire to be nearthe girl Lenore, and to know that she was safe and in good spirits. 

They fastened him by means of a light chain and hoop that lockedaround his waist to a staple set in the floor near one wall. The otherprisoners regarded him as a hero, for since the day of the epic fightthe mate had kept away, and they had been treated with tolerabledecency. Quirl was able to cheer them up with predictions that themost of them would be eligible to ransom. But as he looked at the palebeauty of Lenore he felt grave misgivings, for he knew that a man ofStrom's discernment would want her for his projected Utopia withoutquestion. 

She did not speak to him while the hero-worshipping crowd werefluttering about him to their heart's content. When they finally lefthim alone she came up to him silently, and sat on the floor besidehim. 

"I want to thank you, " she said quietly, clearly, "for what you didfor me and my brother, Mr. --"

"Finner. Quirl Finner. I have thought of you as Lenore, and wonderedhow you were. How long has it been since they took me out? You see--"he grinned, "I was asleep. "

"Five days. At least, they turned off the lights five times for thesleeping periods. "

"The man who fought for you--how is he?"

"My brother--is dead!"

Quirl looked away so that he should not see the quick tears springingto her eyes. But a few moments later he felt her cool hand on hisscarred forehead, and she was smiling bravely. 

"Tragedies such as these, Quirl, were common in the lives of ourancestors. They were able to bear them, and we can bear them. All hislife my poor brother has lived as a gentleman, sheltered, protected byclass barriers. When he died of pneumonia caused by the jagged end ofa broken rib--so Dr. Stoddard says--I think he had a lively sense ofsatisfaction that he should end in such a way. If it had not been forme--"

 * * * * *

She came to him often, after that, to sit quietly by his side, and tobring his food to him from the big community bowl which even the mostfastidious of the prisoners had come to look forward to. She told ofher life as the daughter of a capitalist who owned large mine holdingson Titan. It would be about time for the _Celestia_ to reach Titan, and her non-arrival would be causing anxiety to Lenore's fatherawaiting her there. The void would be swarming with I. F. P. Patrols, but as the pirate ship was invisible nothing would be found but themysteriously looted and abandoned _Celestia_. 

There was no longer any reason for concealing from her the fact thathe himself was a member of the I. F. P. , and Quirl told Lenore of theadventurous life he and his companions had led. Of forays to far-awayand as yet undisciplined Pluto, of tropical Venus and Mercury, wherethe rains never cease, of the hostile and almost unknown planet ofAryl, within the orbit of Mercury, where no man has ever seen a trueimage of the landscape because of the stupendous and never-endingmirages. 

As time passed they were drawn together by the bonds of propinquityand mutual interest--this obscure police officer and the daughter ofone of the most powerful men in the solar system. But Quirl did notname his love, for always there was the grim present of theircaptivity, the ghastly uncertainty of the future. 

The little "galley boy" Sorko seemed daily more frail. Apparently thefall he had sustained had done him some internal injury. Often theguard, with many a ribald comment, had to help him get his emptiedbowl back up the ladder. 

 * * * * *

One day he seemed overcome by great weakness. Staggering, he held hishand to his sweat-dewed forehead. Erratically he waltzed across thefloor, to crumple in a heap where Quirl and the girl were sitting. Moved by compassion, Lenore composed his body in a more comfortableposition, and with a bit of handkerchief moistened the pirate'swrinkled, old-young face with some of Quirl's drinking water. Theguard looked on indifferently. 

"Guard!" Quirl shouted. "He's going to die. Come and take him to thelazaret. "

"Sez you!" returned the guard callously. "Me, I stay on post tillrelieved. Sorko'll be all right. He's been throwin' them fits rightregular. "

Sorko's lips moved feebly, and Lenore bent down to catch his words. They were barely audible:

"I'm all right, lady. You done me a good turn when you made Gore putme down, and I'm doin' you one now. I wouldn't do this for no oneelse. " He gasped. 

"Water!" Lenore exclaimed sharply, and Quirl handed her the rest ofhis cup. 

"Ain't water he wants, " the amused guard observed. "The blighter'splayin' for a good chew of merclite!"[1]

[Footnote 1: Merclite, a highly stimulating gum. It was prohibited byinterplanetary proclamation, but was always obtainable through thesurreptitious channels of a highly profitable traffic. ]

"I ain't as bad as I'm makin' out, " Sorko whispered. "Got to do it totell you this, 'cause you was square with me. Gore is fixin' to have amut'ny. Kill captain, kill all these dubs here--this guy of yourn, too. He wants to take you for his--" the weazened little face twistedin unwonted shy delicacy--"take you for him, pretty lady. I don'twant him to. I'm not--a--bad feller--"

"What the hell, Sorko!" the puzzled guard exclaimed over the delay. "You bandy-legged rat, get up there, or I'll give you a jolt. "

Lenore looked up, indignant. 

"You heartless wretch! Would you let this man--"

"Comin'!" Sorko scrambling to his feet, shuffling to the table, wherehe retrieved his bowl. Quirl and Lenore watched his painful progressup the ladder, until at last he disappeared into the passage. 

"Quirl, " she murmured, as her hand sought his, "take this. "

He felt a small bit of metal, and looking at it cautiously, saw thathe had a rough key, filed out of a piece of flat metal. 

"The key to that hoop around your waist. He copied it from the one thecaptain has, I suppose. "

 * * * * *

His hopes high all at once, Quirl sought the compact little lock inthe small of his back. It took a long time to get the key in, and thenit would not turn. It had been unskillfully made, and was probably nota true reproduction. Nevertheless, by constant effort, he succeeded atlast in turning it, and was rewarded by hearing a faint click. Hetested the hoop, felt it slip, and knew that at any time he chose hecould free himself. 

"Lenore, dear, " he told her. "Go with the other women now. We must donothing to make the guard suspicious. We don't know when this mutinyis to come off, but we are close to Saturn now; it can't be long. Gonow. "

"Good-by, dear. Be careful!"

It seemed an eternity until the emanation disk became dim and went outand the prisoners made sleepy sounds. A relief guard took station, and the ship became silent, so that one could hear the rumbling of thepropelling rockets. As there were no ports in this hold, there was nolight whatever except the faint glow that came from the centralpassage above the platform. Against this the pirate was outlined as hesat on his stool. As Quirl's eyes became accustomed to the darkness hecould see the play of faint highlights on his muscular torso, and sohe waited. 

He thought over the situation. The safest and easiest course would beto create such a disturbance that Captain Strom would be attracted tothe scene. This would probably not involve anything more than a severebeating for himself, and he would then find opportunity to acquaintStrom with the projected mutiny somehow. That Strom would know how todeal with it he never doubted. Lenore might then still be forciblyimpressed as a citizen of Strom's new planet, but at least she wouldnot be exposed to the infinitely worse fate of becoming the playthingof Gore and his villainous crew. 

 * * * * *

The flaw of this plan was that Quirl himself would still be underpractical sentence of death. Strom would not let his gratitude carryhim so far as to release a man who knew as much as Quirl did, and whowould not promise to keep his secrets. 

The preferable, though far more dangerous course was to strike beforethe mutineers could. Quirl knew something about the structure of theship. It was built around the tubular passage, and every hold or groupof rooms opened on this well, from the bow where the navigators wereto the stern where the rockets were located. Somewhere there would bea generating room where the invisibility field was being produced. Ifhe could find this and wreck the generators one of the I. F. P. Shipswith which this part of space doubtless swarmed, would sight them, andafter that everything was in the hands of fate. 

Quirl nervously waited for the guard to nod. At any moment he expectedto hear a hellish bedlam break loose--the beginning of the mutiny. Andthe guard seemed alert. There was nothing to do but take a chance. 

Quirl sighed as if he were turning in his sleep, so that the clink ofthe released chain would not seem out of place. The guard did notstir. Slowly, very slowly, Quirl crept across the floor. He had beenrobbed of all his clothing except his torn silk trousers; and hisboots were gone, so he was able to move as quietly as a cat. 

With tense silence he ascended the ladder, praying that his weightwould not send up a warning vibration. But his luck held. He wasnearly at the top before it broke. 

"Take him off! Take him off!" It was an eery, strangled shriek fromone of the male prisoners in the throes of a nightmare. With astartled curse the guard thudded to his feet, peered tensely into thedarkness, his weapon sending twin milky beams of the powerful ionizingray toward the source of the sound. 

 * * * * *

The dreamer had awakened, still gasping in the grip of fear, and otherdisturbed sleepers were grumbling. 

"Better go easy, you fools, " the pirate warned them. "Yer just in luckthat I didn't let loose a couple bolts on ye. Got a good notion to doit, anyway. " He played the dangerous little spots of light around, amused as the prisoners scrambled for safety, but with no realintention of releasing the deadly electric charge along the pathsprovided for it. This cruel pleasure cost him his life. As he turnedhis back Quirl leaped. His iron-hard forearm rose and fell, and theedge of his hand came down on the back of the pirate's thick neck. There was a muffled crack and he slumped to the platform grating. 

Quickly the officer stripped off the man's harness and buckled itaround his own naked chest. The electrogun had been uninjured, andhooked to the belt was also the riot club, a truly appalling thing atclose quarters. Quirl carried the body down, laid it prone in thecorner he had occupied, snapped on the waistlock, and threw a raggedold blanket over the hairy legs. In the forthcoming disturbance, ifanyone looked in, he would think the inert form a sleeping prisoner, and that the guard had deserted post. 

Quirl had feared an outbreak among the prisoners, but they were soapathetic that they paid little attention. Perhaps they thought it wasQuirl who had been killed, and he did not dare even a whisperedfarewell to the girl he knew was watching somewhere in the darkness. 

Much to Quirl's delight, the long, tubular passage was deserted. Herethe centrifugal gravity was less than it had been in the hold. A weirdplace, this central tube, where every direction was down, and a mancould walk on his ceiling, his floor, his walls with equal facility. No top nor bottom--just a long, smooth tube with numerous enigmaticdoors leading to--where?

At least it was easy to tell where the bow of the ship was. A lightshone through a transom over the door to the navigating room. Shouldhe try to hold up the navigating officer? He decided against that. There would be at least three men in there, and it was the custom tokeep those quarters locked. 

"If only I knew where they generate the invisibility field!" hemuttered, as he stood irresolute. 

 * * * * *

Opportunity came at that moment. A crack of light appeared along thepassage. A door was opening there. A moment later a head andshoulders showed. Someone was climbing up. Swiftly the officer ran tothe place. The pirate did not even suspect anything wrong until hefelt the spots of milky light on his face. He showed his terrorplainly. 

"Get up!" Quirl hissed. The man obeyed with alacrity. Quirl glanceddown. He saw tiers of bunks, evidently one of the crew's dormitories. 

He now turned to the cowering pirate. 

"I'd as soon kill you as not!" Quirl snarled. 

"You got me wrong, brother!" the pirate whined. "I'm with Gore in thisdeal. Lay off!"

"Where you bound for?"

"I have to relieve Burke at the ventilating turbines. "

"Let Burke wait. Lead on to the invisibility generators. "

"Oh, I can't do that, mister! I got to have a pass. Say, mister, I wasjust kidding about being one of Gore's men. I'm for the cap'n, yes, sir!"

"You lying scum!" Quirl barked impatiently. "Get going!"

The white-faced and bewildered pirate led the way down the tube to theafter end. He unlatched a door and tried to enter, but as soon as hehad dropped through to the platform he was met by a guard with leveledionizer. 

"This gem'man, " he started to explain. But Quirl dropped after him andgave him a powerful shove, so that he crashed into the guard. Thelatter pulled the trigger, and the unfortunate pirate crashed over theplatform's edge to the floor. Quirl had out his own electrogun anddispatched the guard. At the same time he felt a stunning shock. Hissenses reeled, but the grating had taken part of the discharge loosedby a pirate electrician at the foot of the ladder. Quirl threw hisriot club and followed that up with another lightning bolt. 

 * * * * *

He was then the only living person in the room, in which twogenerators hummed softly. Connected to them was a bank of U-shapedtubes, each as tall as a man, which were filled with silent lividfire. Quirl picked up a wrench and started hammering at the thicktubes until the glass cracked. Each time he was engulfed by a wave ofheat, and the tube became black. The great generators idled andautomatically came to a stop. Quirl was certain now that the pirateship would be visible, but the position of the captives was stilldesperate. He hoped that none of the surviving pirates would think ofcalling at the generator room, or find out in some other way that theywere now visible in the eternal day of space. 

Quietly he climbed back to the passage and closed the hatch. He castabout for his next move. He was looking toward the bow, but on hearingthe subdued clink of metal on metal, he turned. 

A dozen of the pirates were coming toward him. 

It would have been useless to draw his weapon. Theirs were out andcould have burned him to a crisp before he could move. Silently andwith deadliness apparent in every move they approached him. 

"Hope they try to capture me alive!" he thought. "What a dog-fightthat'll be!"

Now they were nearly up to him. 

"Come along, you fool!" barked the leader of the group as they wereall around him. "Sapheads like you'll give the whole game away. "

Quirl could have laughed. This was evidently part of the mutineers'crew bent on their errand of murder. In the dim light they had takenhim for one of their number. He went with them, meekly. 

"Unlocked!" The leader whom Quirl had not seen before, exclaimed withsatisfaction. He pulled the hatch open softly and the hinges had beenoiled. Quietly as panthers they descended the ladder. They stood atthe bottom. Still another door barred the way. Quirl now realized thatthey were attacking the captain's quarters. But the leader produced akey, and silently swung the door open. 

"So, you dogs! You've come!"

 * * * * *

Like an infuriated bull Captain Strom charged them, a riot club ineach hand. He could have killed them all with a ray, but he chose tovent in physical action his consuming anger at their treachery, whichhe had in some way anticipated. Three or four went sprawling under hismighty blows. The others sought shelter behind tables and chests, andbegan stabbing at him with their electroguns. Electricity crackled, and the air became pungent with ozone. A pair of the twin rays struckthe captain's gold braid, and he went down. With a triumphant yell aman dashed at him, murderous club up-raised. But Quirl was faster, andthe pirate fell dead with a crushed skull. 

Strom was up again, fighting beside Quirl. The pirates remaining fellunder their furious blows, and the two dashed out. Strom said nothing, and Quirl was not sure that he had been recognized. The captaincharged straight for the navigating bow. Here, unless he should beattacked by the I. F. P. He could still control the situation. He wasperhaps still ignorant of the ship's visibility. 

But Quirl made for the prisoners' hold. They would be cowering there, probably in darkness, not knowing what was going on. It was hisintention to rally them, provide them with the weapons of the fallenpirates, and so be in a position to advantageously make terms withwhoever was victorious in this battle. 

He saw, as he approached that the light was on. He was hardly a dozenfeet away when the door was darkened. Quirl did not have to hear hercry to know that Gore had Lenore. 

 * * * * *

Running with remarkable speed, the mate carried his prize toward theafter end of the tube. A hatch stood open there, and he droppedthrough, slamming it after him. 

Quirl picked up a bar that someone had dropped. It was but a matter ofmoments to break the lock and pull open the hatch. The hold waslighted, and empty. In its middle, holding the helpless Lenore, stoodGore, the electrogun in his hand covering the platform. 

"Boy scout to the rescue again!" Gore sneered. He was even morerepulsive than before, with the marks Quirl had left on him in thelast battle. But he was fearless and utterly reckless. "Well, m'lad, Iknow when I'm done. And when a fellow's done he don't care whathappens. So here's the lay: When I get out of here, I'll be dead. And_she'll_ be dead, or you'll wish she was. Get it? She'll be killed, too, if you jolt me--the shock'll pass to her. And the first man-jackwho crosses that grating'll get his from me. Now then, go ahead andpull! Goin' to kill us both, or leave her to me?" He laugheddefiantly, like one who counts himself already dead. 

Quirl tentatively placed one foot on the platform. Instantly a fatspark jumped from the metal to his foot, and sent him sprawling intothe tube. He saw Strom coming toward him. He had killed his enemies inthe control room and was now on the hunt for more. 

"Thanks for what you did, " he grunted. As a forlorn hope, Quirlexplained the situation. Strom smiled a rare smile. 

"That's all right, " he said mildly. "Quirl, you're a square man, andI'd rather do something for a square enemy than a false friend. Oh, Ican do it cheaply. The jig's up for me, anyway!"

Quickly he dropped through the door and launched himself. Gore saw himcoming, and Strom's body shuddered as the bolt struck squarely. Hewas dead when he hit, but his great weight knocked Gore down. 

 * * * * *

Quirl had time to jump after him, knocking the wind out of Gore beforehe could rise. Lenore picked up Gore's weapon, but dared not use itfor fear of injuring her lover. As the two fighting men circledwarily, seeking openings in this battle that must be fatal to one ofthem, they did not see the slight, shadowy figure that dropped down tothem. There was a flash, and Gore slumped, a knife in his back. 

"I done it! I done for him!" chattered Sorko. "The dirty, lousy--"

"Come, Lenore, let's get up to the bow before the pirates think ofit. " They dashed up the ladder. Some more of the disks were out, andit was nearly dark. Three sinewy forms pounced on Quirl the moment heentered the passage. The girl, too, was caught, though she fought andbit. 

"Lights! Let's have some lights!" commanded an authoritative voice. 

"Coming, sir!" came a far-away answer. 

The passage became bright, and Quirl looked into the faces of hiscaptors, in the uniforms of the I. F. P. 

"Got you, you dirty pirate!" gloated the husky young man on his chest. 

"Mike!" Quirl gasped, "don't you know me? How'd you get here?"

"Dog-gone! Finner! Leggo his legs, you eggs. "

"Trailed you, " he added. "Glommed our magnets on the navigating bow. Expected a fight, but some big guy let us in through an airlock. Well, he'd done plenty of scrapping--all the clothes torn off him. Half adozen dead pirates in there. Who is he?"

Quirl thought of the stiffening body of Lieutenant Burroughs, aliasCaptain Strom, who had just purchased his life and that of Lenore atthe cost of his own. Was his undeserved shame now to follow him tohis grave? Quirl was no lawyer, and he decided not to take any chanceswith the law's mercy. He said:

"I don't know his name. A prisoner from some other ship, I think. Hewas very homesick for Earth, and I'll see he gets a decent grave onEarth. He died to save me. "

"As for the lady, " he added, "let her go. She's a captive. And, anyway, I think she is the future Mrs. Quirl Finner. "

She smiled, and the men of the Force looked somewhat enviously atQuirl. 

"Say, " Quirl said, taking Lenore's hand and anxious to be rid of them, "if you find a little monkey-faced guy down in that hold, go easy withhim. He's a good man, too, and I'm going to recommend his pardon. "

 * * * * *